and the lie of the dream that turns
like the seasons, becomes the 
silence of concrete screams in the
betrayal of gravity and hope like a
moth lost in the wind, no light 
of flame only the reckoning of the
dark to claim the dead still as 
foolish as we are to believe
we might fly, that we could ever
be completely free...

Words and Photo ©Debbie Berk 2019